Where We Are
by LilyoftheValley4
Summary: This is where we want to go. Into the light. The Seige on Terminal city is only the beginning. Sandeman, Max, Manticore, and the Conclave all lead to the Coming.
1. Prologue

A/N: I know, I'm a bad girl for starting another story while I have a bunch of others that are still unfinished, but when I get an idea, I got to go with it. Please be patient, I'll try to update as soon as possible, but being a college student makes it really difficult. Enjoy.

**Where We Are**

Prologue

"Seattle, Washington has reached day two on what is quickly being known as the Siege on Terminal City. Behind me this warehouse abandoned due to a chemical spill ten years ago has been uninhabited until recently. Now it gives residence to an unknown amount of transgenics, creatures who have literally been made in a lab." The man paused looking up from the radio he was attempting to repair and turned his attention to the television. A woman with shoulder-length wavy brown hair stood addressing the group. Her lips looked put out thanks to their unnatural shade of red and the paleness of her powdered face. Her countenance remained full compared to the slender figure presented under her blue blazer and black slacks. She looked so artificial it made him wonder why women did that to themselves so willingly.

"Earlier this year reports came in of a facility stationed in Gillette, Wyoming known to the public as a V.A. Hospital but in actuality seems to have been a front for a genetic training facility known as Manticore." The man froze. Images suddenly began to come into vision.

He saw kids, dozens of kids marching together. All of them with hair so short their gender remained undistinguishable. They wore plain blue hospital-like gowns that tied in the back, but they all marched together. He could hear their movements thundering in sync. They couldn't have been more then eight or nine.

Suddenly the vision changed and he saw himself yelling at a woman with curly dark brown hair and full lips. Her eyes were a dark brown and her skin almost reminiscent of a perfect tan. Her eyes held a fire of defiance and love at the same time. They looked at him one moment and then turned downwards to the woman in her arms.

The women's hair looked like it originally had been black, but now held grey streaks, premature for her age. Her skin too, held wrinkles unlike those he'd naturally seen before. Her body remained curled up as if she was in pain. He heard himself shout, "Anything's better than going back." Before he could decipher exactly what those words might have meant a new image flashed into his mind.

The same woman who he had just seen with the dark hair in full lips appeared again. He couldn't distinguish where exactly they were talking, but it seemed dark, almost cave-like. She was dressed in black leather this time. Kneeling and facing him as if trying to get him to focus on her words.

"You will. You called me, right? You remembered my number," she insisted. He caught sight of his face. His eyes seemed hallowed out and red as if he had endured many nights without rest.

He shook his head. "It's not the same." Even as those words came out he felt a surge of emotion he couldn't account for.

"Yes, you can do it if you try," she encouraged.

"No, it's different with you." She just didn't get it. She didn't understand.

His attention abruptly switched back to the television screen as the wave of images stopped. "The woman in charge has identified herself only as Max…"

"Max," he repeated. Another fury of images over took him. He saw himself and the dark haired girl sitting in what looked like a wooden cabin. A fire burned in the fireplace in the middle of the far wall. He poured her a glass of wine and then sat on the couch across from her.

"I know I've been hard on you, Max but I'm just trying to keep you safe," he heard himself say.

"I know," she whispers. He watches as he reaches out and moves a piece of hair from her face.

The image changed and he found himself staring down at a man with short sandy blond hair in a wheel chair. A pair of thin glasses rested on his nose. The expression on his own face held a note of anger and maybe jealousy, but he couldn't be sure.

"She should have gotten the hell out of Seattle a long time ago. She knows it's not safe here, but she stayed anyway, because of you." He shuddered at the memory for some reason before it changed.

The man with the blond hair disappeared and was suddenly replaced with a woman with bleach blond hair and a pointed nose and slightly reddened lips. She stood in a black suit watching something. He followed her gaze and found himself looking down at the woman with dark brown hair again. Her face was pale, making the lips that surrounded the clear tube in her throat look fuller. Her eyes were closed. The doctors had been shocking her body continuously, but a harsh steady wail of the heart monitor remained unchanging.

He watched himself pull a gun. Where he had gotten it he wasn't sure. "X5-599, I've got a heart for you." He moved the gun to his head and fired.

He blinked furiously trying to clear the image from his vision, but as soon as the woman's picture disappeared from his mind, he found it being broadcasted on TV. The picture was mostly a head shot taken, it looked like, while she was in motion for some of the facial details were quite blurred, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was the girl from his visions.

"Some of these transgenics resemble humans, but many don't. All the transgenics are said to be identifiable by the barcodes tattooed on the backs of their necks." He felt his hand subconsciously move to the back of his neck. It was something he had discovered a few days after he got back to the ranch. Buddy told him he had gotten it a few years back at a tattoo parlor while being completely drunk, thinking it was cool at the time. He had even tried to get it removed once, but to his surprise, it came back two weeks later. He never really liked it. It reminded him of being owned. He felt like it made him a number, a product, that no one cared about. Since then, he wondered what ever made him want to get in the first place.

Now the news was telling him that these transgenics had them. Could he possibly be a transgenic? How could he be a transgenic and not know it? Why did he have memories of the leader of these transgenics, Max? He didn't understand.

"The transgenics are also believed to have superhuman powers. Manipulated and educated since birth, these creatures were trained to be super soldiers. They have been known to demonstrate fantastic fighting abilities as well as move at unimaginable speeds and exhibit incredible magnitudes of strength." He dropped the screwdriver, the radio completely forgotten, as he looked at his hands. Doing work around the farm he often himself lifting things that many others could not.

One of the other hands, Charlie, had given him an odd look just last week when he had lifted the roll of hay easily into the pick up truck without breaking a sweat. He couldn't even explain how he did it, or how he knew he could do it. He just did it.

Another vision came to his mind. Leaving the hospital, Buddy was pushing him in a wheelchair to the car. His arm was a sling from the car accident, but as they left, he remember passing a girl sitting in a chair in front of a room reading a magazine. It was the same dark haired girl, Max.

He remembered looking at her. Her face looking so familiar and then asking, "Do I know you?"

She looked up and gave him a hesitant glance, but it confused him. It didn't seem as if she hesitated in thought to place him, but rather as if she recognized him and was sad about something. "No. I don't think so."

"Adam?" Adam looked up. Buddy had entered the room and seemed to be struggling to get his attention. He glanced up at the television where the reporter was now talking about ways families could protect themselves from transgenics. A look of uncertainty and concern passed over his features as he returned his attention to Adam.

"We need to talk," Adam said, looking at Buddy. Buddy nodded gravely as if he knew someday he would say those words.


	2. By the Fire

**A/N**: Thanks to **MoonAngel23** and **X5898** for reviewing! I hope to see even more new names for this chapter. One little note about this chapter. The Priestess from the show (involved with the Conclave) was never given a name, so I named her Marian, just so nobody gets confused about who Marian is. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Dark Angel. It was the genus work of James Cameron and therefore not mine.

**Chapter 1**

Luke ran over to the television and hastily pushed the button to turn it on. A commercial for laundry detergent showed some gangsters trying to clean the blood stains out of their white shirts appeared. "What channel? What channel?"

"Try any damn channel," Mole answered irritably through the cigar that rested between his lips. Hardly any of them knew what he sounded like when he spoke without it. "It's got to be on all of them." In response, Luke began pushing through the channel up button continuously, but without paying any real attention to the screen.

"There," Max said, pointing to the screen as one of the local news stations caught her eye. "Stop there."

"I have just been informed that the President is ready to make a statement." All eyes, whether they were located deep in the skull with horizontal eyelids, catlike, deformed, or even just two normal spherical eyes, all of them had their vision fixed on one of the multiple televisions found within Terminal City.

At the reporter's words, the reporter and the news station faded and there stood President Randolph Jacob Glade III in his tailored navy suit accompanied with a white shirt and a light blue tie. On the lapel of the suit a miniature American flag rested assertively and visibly. President Glade himself came from a very political family. None of the other members of his family had succeeded in reaching the position of President of the United States, but his grandfather came close in the election of 2008.

President Glade had the look of a politician. His hair held grey roots despite the brown in most of his tips. The wrinkles in his face came down and gave the appearance that his face was melting so that extra flesh created hallows on the right and left sides of the space between his lips and chin. For a man of fifty-eight, he looked a lot older, despite having a fit physique, but it seemed like the aftermath of the pulse did that to people.

He stood at a wooden podium. The background behind him was a giant navy blue curtain with the seal of the United States on it. Old Glory rested in the corner of the stage to his right, rustling softly with the movement and fury of all the reporters in the room. White flashes bounced off his suit and made the flag pin on his jacket sparkle when it caught one of the flashes just right. A body guard stood clad in black suits on either side of the stage, but could only be seen briefly in the few quick moments it took the camera man to focus and zoom in on the President so that only to top half of the podium and his body were showing. He cleared his throat and all at once, what little noise the audience made ceased to be heard.

"My fellow Americans," he began his voice low and scratchy. "The reason my administration and I felt it necessary to call this press conference is because we've been deceived." He paused and licked his lips.

"Earlier this year, it came to the attention of this administration that a facility stationed in Gillette, Wyoming under the pretence as a V.A. Hospital was actually conducting genetic research on humans. The facility, known as Manticore, worked to create soldiers to defend our country; soldiers that exhibited various specialized abilities because of their genetics. Seven months ago, this facility was compromised, and an unknown number of these transgenics managed to escape before Manticore burnt to the ground.

"Some of you have heard about Senator James McKinley's investigation of Manticore and the resulting transgenics, as well as the testimony of Special Agent Ames White which has brought accusations against this administration for knowingly diverting funds towards genetic research and the ultimate recovery of that research."

President Glade's eyes hardened and his hand gestures became more adamant. "Let me tell you here and now that this administration did not knowingly divert funds to supplement or cover up Manticore. An investigation is already underway to discover and prosecute any of those involved whether they are currently working to conceal or have concealed any information relating to Manticore." Following that statement the defensive look he portrayed in his features fell away to a sort of tense weariness.

"Late last night, I received a report from the Governor of Seattle, Washington. He informed me that at least four transgenics were involved in a hostage situation before taking refuge in downtown Seattle. No one was injured during that time."

"No one was injured, my ass," Mole broke in. "None of _their_ kind was injured, but no one cares about us." Max looked at Mole sadly in a memory of Cece before turning back to the television.

"The exact number of transgenics in this facility is unknown, but it's estimated in the hundreds. The federal government will be sending infantries of the National Guard to assist in the peaceful surrender of those transgenics involved in the hostage situation. We do not want a war, but we will fight if we can't talk Thank you."

"Mr. President!" the urgent cries came out almost simultaneously, but one question seemed to permeate above them all.

"Mr. President, what is your plan if negotiations fail?" The President looked at the man with short blond hair, but did not say a word as he walked off the stage. Luke turned off the television as soon as the President disappeared off-stage.

"I dunno what you thought making a stand was, but this is war," Mole said gesturing at the blank television. "You don't bring in the National Guard just for peace."

"They said they want to talk, we can't give up hope yet," Max argued.

Mole looked at Max with disbelief. "What are you going to do? Walk into the street just so you can talk to them? They'll shoot you ten times before you even reach the perimeter."

"No one's going anywhere," Max insisted, her voice held a note of finality. She and Mole stared at each other for a moment before Alec stepped in.

"Alright people, back to business, fixing and sorting things or whatever." As the other transgenics began to disperse he made his way to Max. Original Cindy and Sketchy were standing with her.

"Thanks," Max said tiredly.

"Hey, no problem, but outta curiosity, you do have a plan, right? Because you are leading all these—" Alec watched as a transgenic with webbed feet and hands walked by, it's eyes on the side of its head "things to greener pastures." The look of thanks on Max's face immediately turned to irritation.

"I'll take care of this, boo," Original Cindy said to Max, stepping in front of her friend to confront Alec. "What's goin' on in my girl's head ain't fo your ears to hear. She's saved your ass enough times fo you to trust her judgment. So maybe you sit your white ass down and find somethin' to keep your hands busy so you don't break anything."

"Okay, okay," Alec said putting his hands up in surrender. "I get the picture. Max is the Queen." He turned to Max. "Jeez, see if I help you again."

Max shrugged. "If you could help me out without reminding me of what I already know, we might be able to work something out."

"Well, while you're working stuff out, you might want to consider the consequences of them staying here," he said gesturing to Sketchy and Original Cindy.

"What's he talkin' 'bout?" Original Cindy asked placing a hand on her hip as Alec walked away. "Original Cindy's not about to leave you to fight this bitch all on your own."

"I second that," Sketchy agreed as he wiped the lens of his camera with the sleeve of his shirt. "Those people out there will be dying for the inside scoop once this is all over. Hey, ow!" Sketchy pulled away from the sharp elbow Original Cindy just rammed into his side and looked at her in disbelief.

"Hey, this could be an advantage for you, too, Max. Think about it," Sketchy said dreamily as he waved his hand in the air as if he could touch the headline to his latest story idea. "I could call it, _The Truth Behind the Soldier_ or _Inside the Transgenics Genes: Friend or Foe?_"

Max gave Sketchy an irritated stare. "None of them want to hear what we have to say. I don't know how this is going to go down, but I don't want anyone mistaking either of you for one of us."

"And how do you suppose to keep us outta harms way?" Original Cindy asked with an eyebrow raised. "We can't just walk out and face twenty guns pointed at all our vital organs. Besides, if we left you what would we do? Go back to Jam Pony while my sista girl is trying to bring peace to this broken world? Hell no. Original Cindy is in this till the end."

Max smiled fondly at Original Cindy who smiled back before turning her attention back to Sketchy. "What about you, fool?"

Sketchy looked back and forth between Original Cindy and Max. "Well, as appealing as it is to look death in the face, I figure that as a reporter," Sketchy's eyes flickered over to Original Cindy, "and a friend, passing up an opportunity like this would most certainly have dire consequences."

"Words spoken like a true idiot," Original said with a smile. "And a straight up friend."

1111

"Failure seems to follow you, Ames," Marian said into the phone. "The Conclave sends you the Phalanx to get rid of one girl and you let her slip out of our hands again."

"With all due respect to the Conclave, if you have a better way of taking care of her, I'd like to hear it," White argued. "The matter is being handled."

"The Conclave has given you its last resort," Marian explained. "If you don't take care of 452 soon—"

"Are you threatening me?" White demanded. He had never liked the priestess very much, but as a sister, he couldn't help but tolerate her, but these threats went too far.

"I don't need to explain to you the urgency with which this matter needs to be regarded."

"I know what's at risk. I have a plan that will take care of 452 and the rest of those transgenics all at the same time."

"I'm glad to hear that, Ames, but I'll be happier when I see it," Marian said pointedly. "_Fe'nos_ _tol_."

"_Fe'nos_ _tol_."

1111

"Bugle, do you have to play such a depressing song?" Fixit asked without looking up from the pieces of television she had spread out on the floor in front of her.

Bugle turned away from the front of the window he liked to look out when he played. Streams of water systematically formed and separated into individual dots. Looking past the window, the rain fell in straight glistening sheets like large thin shimmering spider web curtains.

Bugle pulled the horn away from his mouth, his fingers resting on the tops of the valves as if in mid-note. "It's raining outside. I'm playing to the mood."

"What about that new song you were working on?" Fixit suggested distractedly. "Why don't you play that?"

Bugle shook his head, his brown hair being ruffled slightly as he did so. "That song is a happy tune. I don't feel like playing that right now." The backdoor slammed the sound echoing through the house.

"Can someone help me with these?" Bullet said, struggling with a stack of logs in his hands. His blond hair held dew drops of rain that slid down his face because the hood of his navy blue rain jacket had fallen, leaving his head unprotected. Before Fixit or Bugle could make any effort to help him, the logs fell from his hand and spread out over the floor.

"Watch it!" Fixit cried as she watched one of the logs coming close to landing on one of the circuit boards to the television.

"Thanks for the help," Bullet said sarcastically as he bent down to pick the logs up. He looked over at Fixit. "Any closer to fixing that thing?"

"I'm almost done," Fixit said. "I just got to put it back together and I think we'll be in business. Those tubes Ralph picked up at work were a life saver."

Since the five of them arrived in Canada, three if them managed to find jobs. Fixit worked at a car mechanics shop in District 13, where the manager there didn't ask questions of how such a young girl knew her way around a car, but rather accepted her knowledge with the relief of having an educated hand for his short-staffed garage.

Ralph worked at a restaurant in District 11. It really was a sweet deal for sometimes wrong orders or excess foods allowed Ralph to sneak pork, chicken, and occasionally some steaks home for the rest of them. She managed to find the television tubes from a regular who worked in an electronics shop.

Zero succeeded in finding the most advantageous job for their situation out of all of them. Being the oldest, Zero managed to earn the respect of a local news reporter while making a delivery as a bike messenger to the news station. Accidentally, his book bag had spilt while waiting for a signature, knocking the copies of some papers from Washington State. Since their escape into Canada, Zero made it a point to keep up on news in the states. He subscribed to a Washington paper who delivered to a deposit box he'd set up specifically for that purpose under a false name.

A reporter, Jamie Byers, assisted Zero in picking up the papers. Under the assumption that Zero had an interest in being a reporter due to his collection of papers, Zero played along and soon found himself with a job as a Byers's personal secretary. The job meant that Zero got to ride into various districts to pick up information from sources with a district pass that got him all around the city.

Before Zero acquired the pass the five of them kept residence in a communal warehouse in District 15. Bums, thieves, muggers, and many others who couldn't afford a place for keeps all stayed in this one large open room, sleeping half awake with a hand on what few possessions they owned. About a week after obtaining the job, Zero spotted this house on the way back from a meet with a source. It looked abandoned and further investigation proved it was, but it seemed for good reason. The house desperately needed patches in the roof, replacement windows for the many broken ones, a new front porch because the old one was rotted through. They used the back door as their main entrance. The kitchen and bathrooms required new fixings for the plumbing and many steps leading to the upstairs were questionable.

Bullet and Bugle took to fixing and cleaning up things around the house during the day. With the needed pieces obtained in what ever ways they could, Bugle and Bullet slowly patched up the roof, replaced the plumbing, and worked on increasing the supports for the stairs. The house actually seemed homier with the touches Ralph and Fixit added to the atmosphere. Fixit managed to score some rows of seats from cars being disassembled for parts, and they made up the majority of the furniture in the living room. A moldy old couch came with the house, but was unusable until Ralph washed the smell out of the cushions and managed to find some cloth table cloths at work to cover the couch with.

"Hey, kids," Zero said coming into the house, a big brown bag of groceries in his hand. Ralph came in behind him with another bag which they set on the kitchen counter. Both of them looked thoroughly wet, and deep brown spots in the brown bags showed the bags had suffered significantly from the rain as well.

"Hey, Zero. Anything new at work?" Bullet asked as he placed the wood in a stack next to the fireplace. He grabbed a few pieces of wood and threw them in the fireplace.

"Nah, worked inside with paperwork mostly, since it was raining," Zero explained as he and Ralph unpacked the groceries. Bullet nodded as he rolled up some old pieces of newspaper and stuck them under the wood.

"Alright, I think I got it," Fixit announced as she placed the back of the television on. Surprisingly, the television had also been left in the house, but like everything else it needed extensive repair and electronic parts were scarce and expensive.

"Awesome, Fixit," Zero praised as he threw the paper bags on the fire Bullet had just lit. He collapsed in one of the gray cloth car seats and waited as Fixit plugged in the television. The screen turned on fuzzy and slightly snowy. Fixit fooled around with knobs and the fuzziness slowly dissipated as the local news station came into view.

"Yes!" Ralph shouted in excitement. "Way to go, Fixit! Turn it up!" Fixit roamed her fingers easily across the buttons and pushed the volume up button rapidly several times as the reporter's voice filled the room.

Zero listened for a few minutes, but got bored as the highlight of their broadcast seemed to be the weather. He reached into his book bag and pulled out several Washington newspapers. Work kept him busy lately, so he hadn't been able to find the time to pick up the papers in a couple of days. He scanned the headlines and front pages of all the major sections, without seeing anything of interest till he reached today's paper. _Siege on Transgenics after Hostage Situation: Genetically Enhanced Killing Machines Fighting for Domination_. The article on the front page of the paper took up the whole page above the crease. Two pictures went along with the article. One picture showed a hand drawing of a man with the face of a dog, with the caption, "Many transgenics have combined DNA. This half-dog half-man creature attacked several Seattle police officers four months ago." The other picture he recognized as Max. She stood on one of the Police hover drones and seemed to be flying with some control towards a building. The caption read, "As soldiers trained to kill, just as many transgenics have been made to look like humans. Aside from their superhuman fighting abilities, they are distinguished by a barcode located on the back of their neck."

"Guys?" Zero said cautiously, not looking up from the paper, but none of them paid attention to him. It was then that the newscaster's words began to register in his brain. When he heard the word "transgenics" he looked up. Camera footage was being shown from a helicopter. They could see a large dilapidated warehouse with a fence around it, only to be further surrounded by police cars. They listened as the reporter told them all about the transgenics taking hostages and the events that led to the siege.

"We got to help them!" Ralph cried as they went to a commercial.

"Are you crazy?" Bullet asked. "Did you not see all those cops? How do you expect to get past them? Not to mention the fact that if this is all over our news then White has to have people crawling all over the place!"

"Don't you get it?" Ralph scoffed. "That building is filled with people just like us; people who have been running for their lives and struggling for some sort of normalcy, some sort of acceptance into a society that doesn't want them. What ever happens there is going to determine the state of our existence for a while."

"Even still, we're probably not even going to be able to get near Sector 7, let alone get into any other Sector without a pass," Bullet pointed out.

"We'll worry about that we went get there," Ralph insisted.

"We can't go in there without a plan!"

"The plan is to go to Seattle."

"And hope they have someone handing out Sector passes to transgenics at the border?"

"That's enough!" Zero said stepping in. "Fighting isn't going to solve anything." Zero paused for a minute staring at the TV in blank thought. "Ralph has a point. This is as much their battle as it is ours. After everything Max did for us, I think we owe her the courtesy of our help, but the fact is this is bigger than her. For the longest time it's only White we had to worry about. If this thing goes bad, everyone in the world is going to know we exist and can be looking to hunt us down. I don't want to live that way. As a unit I think we should go to Seattle together, but this isn't Manticore," Zero said looking at Bullet. "If this is a battle you don't want to fight, then stand down, but don't stop others from making their choice, or vice versa," Zero said to Ralph.

The room turned silent with the exception to the television that no one was paying any attention to.

"I'm in," Ralph stated with a smile at Zero.

"Me too," Fixit agreed.

"Me too," Bugle said his voice high and childlike amongst the others.

Bullet looked at Bugle in surprise and at the others with uncertainty. He thought for a moment and with a sudden realization of what was really at hand, he spoke up too. "I'm in, too."

"We'll have some dinner, get a few hours of sleep and then make our way south," Zero said conclusively. Seconds later, the five of them divided up housework and went through the motions of cooking dinner knowing that it would be their last night in the comforts of their house for awhile for the future remained uncertain with no assurances that any or all of them would ever return.


	3. What's Going to Be

**A/N**: Here's the next update. Sorry it took so long, but I've actually been using my urbanization class as a way to slowly update this story, so hopefully I'll have an update in the relatively near future. Thanks to those of you who took the time to read and review!

Chapter 2

"What'd you find?" Jason Thompson asked.

Jamie Thompson pulled up his right hand that had been hanging limply at his side to reveal a toy fire truck, no longer than a foot. His left remained securely fastened to the hem of his mother's shirt. The fire truck was missing a wheel on either side in opposite positions. A yellow stub slightly tainted with grim revealed the presence of another piece that used to move up and down, like a ladder. The rest of the truck looked like it had been played with in the mud too long. It seemed to be a permanent shade darker than the original color, but Jamie loved it anyway.

"Can I see?" Jamie shook his head and immediately brought the truck away from view as if its visual presence determined whether or not it actually existed.

"Let me see!" Jason whined as he tried to step closer to his younger brother. Jamie stepped back even farther, but found his movement stopped when he ran into a pair of soft unmovable legs.

"Hey watch it!" Mrs. Thompson looked at the man apologetically as she urgently put her hands on the backs of her boys to usher them forward.

"Jason, stop that!" His mother reprimanded as Jason made another move towards his younger brother.

"He won't let me see!" Jason protested.

"Not now. You'll see it later," his mother insisted, with a worried look at the man behind him and the long line in front of them.

With his mother's words, Jamie felt confident enough to bring the fire truck back into view. His brother glared, but made no movement to try and tack the fire truck away this time. Jamie took his little finger and spun the front tire that was present with the tip of his finger. Both brothers watched it spin.

A shadow fell across their vision and they left the tire spinning as they turned their attention to the source of the shadow. A group of four people, three men, and a woman with bright red hair walked passed them. They walked passed everyone, till they reached the front of the line being monitored by the sector police.

"What are you kidding?" The boys heard the policeman say, as Jason shifted with curiosity to the edge of the line to see everything happening. "You think your special or something? Get to the end of the line!"

The four line cutters looked at each other and grinned. "There's no mistake," the red-haired woman said as she shot her hand out and wrapped it around the officer's neck. Her three companions instantly jumped into the action by attacking nearby officers with smooth kicks and punches before taking their guns and setting themselves up in a line before the gates of the sector point.

"Time for you people to go home!" The woman barked. No one seemed to be able to move. All eyes were on the four people and their guns. The man standing behind the Thompson brothers stepped out.

"I don't know what you people want but I got a meeting in Sector 4 at two." The woman grinned before going down in a tuck and then shooting her body about ten feet in the air before landing right in front of the open mouth man.

"You're one of those mutants," he said starting to cower. Mrs. Thompson pulled her children closer to her as the woman stepped closer to the man.

"Name's Thula, nice to meet you," she said shooting out her hand and wrapping it around his neck. She lifted him off the ground by his neck. His legs dangled, making attempts to kick towards her. His face turned red as he struggled for breath. She tightened her grip on his neck. A loud crack seemed to rip through the audience before she dropped the man and he fell motionless to the ground.

Little Jason's eyes focused on the man's eyes, that were open in pain. As the woman turned around to walk by, she let her eyes rest on the little boy's for a moment before she nodded at the three men at the gate. A single gasp seemed to erupt from the crowd as the three men turned their guns on the people in the line. Those in the front row never stood a chance. Seconds later, dozens of people were taking off down the street. Some just dropped dead as their friends and relatives left them, fleeing for their own lives. Resting on the stomach of the man who first fell was the little red fire truck missing two wheels, it's owner no where to be seen.

2222

"Phase one's completed."

"Excellent, they knew?"

"Oh yeah, they knew. Didn't even have to show the barcodes."

"Well done. We'll give the media a day to pick up the news and then we move to make a more public display."

"I'll be waiting."

"_Fe'nos_ _tol_."

"_Fe'nos_ _tol_."

2222

"I've been looking all over for you." Max didn't even have to turn. She knew the moment his first step hit the cement floor.

"I needed to get away from it all, to think." Logan walked over to sit next to her. He didn't say anything. He knew she would tell him what she was thinking without asking.

"When White was holding me, he talked about Sandeman. He could read the symbols," Max said, looking at her arms as if they were still there. "He said that Sandeman created Manticore. That life is sacred. The people who aren't genetically engineered or selected by a breeding cult from the age of dinosaurs will inherit the earth and it's up to me to save them."

"Now look who's out to save the world," Logan said with a straight face, but also a note of seriousness. "But we don't know if that person is you."

"No?" Max asked. "It explains why Renford took a bullet for me during the takedown. It explains why White and his cult buddies want me dead. Sandeman created Manticore to take down the Conclave."

"But why you?" Logan stated. "Manticore existed long before you did. As far as we know, Sandeman went into hiding long before you came along. How then could he alter your genes to give you this assignment?"

"Believe me, that's one question I've got out of a long list for the guy," Max said with frustration. She fell silent. In the distance, shuffling from the cops moving around outside along with a low murmur of mumbled voices could be heard.

"Max, I—" Logan started.

"I need to tell you something," Max interrupted. Her gaze shifted from her hands to his eyes. His eyes met hers and he saw something he didn't understand. Sadness and love at the same time. The messages were directed at him. She seemed upset, but the love that he never thought she'd show for him since she started dating Alec seemed to be present in her eyes at that moment.

"It's just that—Alec and I," Max stuttered. She didn't understand why she couldn't just say it. Her eyes shifted down and then she looked up and saw Logan waiting expectantly. "We're—"

"Max!" Max felt her stomach plummet as Alec's bellowing yell echoed through the warehouse. Any confidence she had just worked up to tell Logan the truth disappeared. She wanted to curse Alec and thank him at the same time.

"I should see what he wants," Max said distantly no longer meeting his gaze.

"Right," Logan responded in a monotone voice. Max stood up and headed towards the door. She paused for a moment, at the doorway and paused thinking that the confidence would suddenly arise and her confession would come out of her mouth on her own, but it didn't happen.

"Logan," she called. He looked up, hoping that she would say what she had planned on saying. That she would give him good news and tell him that she wasn't dating Alec and her heart had always belonged to him and only him.

"I'm glad you're here," she said. The words were truthful, but they seemed to be missing the inclusive emotion that would have come if she had told him the truth.

"Me too," he responded with the corner of his mouth rising in a half grin. He didn't know what she wanted to say, but he figured his opportunity to hear it wasn't over.

"Max!" Max winced with an annoyed look before leaving the room. She headed down three flights of concrete steps and then walked down a long hallway that finally opened as a balcony over the entire command center.

"Max, finally!" Alec said as he yelled up from the ground floor.

"I'm here. I assume you wanted me to kick your ass?"

"No one knew where you were," Alec said with a shrug. "And I figured you'd want to know."

"Know what?" Alec made a motion to someone who was apparently standing under the balcony that Max was standing on. Max recognized that dark sandy colored hair before he even turned around to show his face.

"Zack," she whispered, without any regard to his previously established alias.

"We need to talk, Max."

2222

"It's freezing," Ralph whispered from their position in the bushes. A swarm of condensation chased her words in a cloudy white haze to emphasize her point.

"Shhh," Fixit whispered back. The five of them were crouching in front of the entrance to Sector 7. They'd been waiting for the opportunity to try and sneak over the sector point without being noticed, but the entrance to Sector 7 was being monitored more closely than the US border or any of the other sectors. Not only were very few people allowed admittance, but every person going through had been examined for barcodes. Even though they had been waiting for over an hour, none of the officers had taken the opportunity to go inside to get warm and taking the cops by force would be out of the question.

"There's no way we can get past these guys," Bullet whined. "Not peacefully anyway."

"We could make a run for it," Zero said doubtfully. "But I don't like the idea of facing five guns."

"Look," Bugle pointed. Everyone's gaze turned to the sector point and watched as three of the cops waved to the other two and made their way to the booth.

"This is as good as it's going to get," Zero said nervously. "We'll do intervals. Two seconds. Meet up around the block and what ever happens, stay on the defense." Zero did a quick nod and took a deep breath as soon as he was assured the others knew what was going on. He glanced at the three cops inside. Their guns rested against the wall by the door. The television was on, but there really was only enough room for two of them to sit. They wouldn't have much time before those cops caught on. The first three would have an easier time getting over the fence then the last two. Zero still wasn't that comfortable with the idea.

"Zero," Bugle said taping his older brother's shoulder.

"Not now," Zero answered, shaking him off, his eyes periodically going back-and-forth between the guards in the booth and the ones tracing the perimeter.

"Zero," Bugle whispered more urgently.

"What, Bugle?" Zero demanded harshly, finally turning his attention away from the sector police.

"Over there," Bugle pointed. Zero looked in the direction Bugle was pointing, and noticed a dark shape near the ground, but he was unable to determine what the object was. Relaxing his eyes, his pupils rapidly dilated and the object came into focus.

"Good job, Bugle," Zero commended. He did quick hand signals to the others to tell them to follow him and stay low and quiet. The five of them began making their way through the bushes. Unfortunately, with bushes comes a significant amount of undetectable debris, even for transgenics. Zero felt his heart stop as well has his forward motion at the sound of twig snapping. No one moved and everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

"What was that?" One of the cops asked. He turned the bright white light that rested on the barrel of his gun on and focused it on the bushes.

"I dunno," the other cop said, also turning on his light. He stayed at the perimeter while the other cop crept forward. Zero looked at the cop and then looked at the distance to their destination, the sewer.

Using silent signals once again Zero faced the group telling them they were going to make a run for it. Everyone nodded. The cop was about ten feet from the bushes when Zero took off. Their speed blurred because of their fast pace. If there had only been one figure, the cop may have been sure that he'd been imagining things, but there were several, and as a result he began firing. The three cops in the booth immediately heard the shots and loud banging and shuffling could be heard as they attempted to find out what the commotion was about.

Zero led the five of them in a long arch into the shadows near a brick building. The four of them remained crouched in the darkness as Zero dodged bullets and made his way to the sewer cover. He lifted it quickly and easily and then used it for cover. He could hear the dings and feel the force of the bullets pushing against it, but he only had to hold it for a few seconds.

As soon as the cover was established, the others emerged from the shadows one at a time to make their way down into the sewers. As soon as everyone had made it in, Zero crept his way over to the sewer, still using the lid for cover. Once he reached the edge of the whole, he came out of his crouch slightly, just to get enough momentum, to jump into the sewer. He let go of the lid as soon as he felt it click into place and landed in a crouch in murky water.

"We're almost there," Zero concluded, still listening to the movements going on on the surface. The others looked at him. Ralph nodded, but he knew they were thinking of the same thing. Once they got to Terminal City, then what would happen?


End file.
